Time for Another Adventure
by Elipsa
Summary: "To come back, you must complete two quests. Both filled with tragedy and death, blood and fire. One is to reclaim a home and the second is to protect it and all the others from one who is far worse than anyone has ever seen. At the end, you will decide who, if either, will come back" HP/Hobbit/LotR Xover
1. Prologue

A snort left the woman's lips, ever watchful eyes on the family below. She sat with her legs tucked under her on the window seat, her elbow resting on the windowsill and her palm cupping her cheek. The gown she wore shimmered in the reflection of the sun, the material caressing her skin, and the soft gray color of the fabric matched her eyes.

The family she kept her watch over stood scattered throughout the beach, all doing various things. A smile tilted her lips upwards when Ginevra dunked a sputtering Percy under the waves. Her smile didn't last, though, as she continued to look and calculate, going over her choices one last time.

She could not risk making the wrong decision.

Her line of sight stayed on the youngest: Ginevra, whose head could barely be seen above the waves, her hair the only beacon of her location, the bright fire of color only slightly muted from the waves and salt.

Seconds ticked by and then her head dipped below the water in a harsh tug as Percy extracted his revenge.

Another snort left her and the woman's scrutiny moved on. No matter how strong the fire in the young redhead burned, the flames would be snuffed out in the end if Ginevra went. If she hadn't been female, she might have been one of the chosen.

Percy and Ginevra's heads surfaced, Percy with a small smirk and Ginevra wildly waving her hands in the air, a scowl twisting her features.

Percy… no. He had been considered for a short bit, but in the end she decided he wouldn't be the best champion. He had the desire to do better, but his soft heart would do him no good in what lay before her chosen. He had the brains and the smarts, but he didn't thrive to see things, do things, outside of his family and work.

The next: Ronald, who lay with his head on Hermione's lap, eyes closed and snoring.

Her fingers tapped on her chin, a soft smile in place.

The young man had faced many things in his short life: death, pride, and his insecurities; he had become a better man for it. Ronald would have done well, but he was tired and he had already paid the price. Much as she could not send Ronald, she couldn't, wouldn't, send the woman running her fingers through his hair. They had fought in a war since they had been eleven, even if they had no notion of it at the time.

And Harry… a tear slipped down her cheek as she stared at the man sitting on the beach, his knees drawn up to his chest as he watched his fiance chasing Percy. Even from her perch inside of the cottage, she could see the besotted smile.

Not him either.

Her attention wavered from the ones gathered closely on the beach, and instead moved towards the last few. Another tear slipped down her cheek as she studied the lone man walking away from the group, his shoulders hunched and the despair rolled off him, much like the waves lapping at the rocks.

Even after two years, George had not healed.

Time wouldn't fill the void. Sympathy hurt, griefs could not be shared or understood.

Standing, she brushed off her skirt and walked out of the cottage and followed after him, the smell of fresh air and salt water surrounding her.

She didn't need to think longer. She knew her choices and she knew them right, no matter how much they hurt or how much confusion they would feel.

Forgiveness would never be hers, she knew. Her lips trembled as she walked past Hermione and Ronald, wishing she could grant them one small mercy, one that would help heal all the grief they had faced and all the adversity. The same she wished for Harry, but she couldn't.

She soon caught up to George and walked silently next to him. The wind played with her hair, the strands swaying softly against her cheeks.

He didn't look over and the two walked in silence.

They climbed a small hill and she followed his example when he sat, staring over his family from the height.

The two sat and watched the interactions of the family until the sun set.

As the reds, oranges and pinks bled into the far corner of the ocean, George looked over at her and smiled, bright and sincere. "You're the only one who doesn't mind me being quiet."

She shrugged and smiled, "Silence does not make everything quiet," her words lay tinged with an accent. "We speak many things through it and we hear more."

He nodded, leaning back onto his hands to stare at the darkening sky. "Yeah. You know, I've been thinking about leaving for a while." His words came out soft. "I think… maybe that'll help."

She said nothing, watching as the others began making their way inside except for two, who stood looking in different directions.

"Do you think… do you think this pain will end?"

One of them looked up and saw them. He jabbed at his brother's side and pointed at them, his long hair being pushed back from his face.

"All things end, but the void, the memories, and the feelings won't disappear. You will still miss him, you'll still remember him, and you'll never forgot that you loved him." She stared at him, a few tears falling free from her eyes. "You will never have another Fred, but you will see him again. It was right to mourn, but now it is right to spend the rest of our times remembering. However long, or brief, that time may be."

Both the men on the beach began to make their way towards the two on the hill.

She and George shared a smile and he leaned forward to wipe the tears from her face. "He wouldn't want us to cry for him."

"I do not cry for him." She grasped his hand. "I wish you happiness, a good life, and a family that will help you move forward." Moving to kneel, she grasped his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his forehead and whispered something that the wind took and wrapped around George.

She released her hold on him and gave him one more smile. "Go on your journey and enjoy your life."

He tilted his head to the side and grinned, "I think we need to work a little more on your English. It sounds as if you're saying goodbye. Even when I leave, I will come back."

"All endings have goodbyes, some spoken and some silent, others figuratively and others literally."

"Now you sound like Hermione. You've been spending too much time with her."

The two heading their way began walking up the small hill.

"Perhaps, but take my goodbye."

"Only if you take my see you later."

"One way or another, I'm sure we will. Goodbye."

He chuckled and stood. "Then I'll see you later." He started jogging away, passing his two brothers, ducking under Charlie's swinging arms and tripping the dragonologist for his pathetic attempt at hitting him.

Chuckling, she sat once more and waited for Bill and Charlie to make it to the top.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing here out on her own?" Charlie asked as he sat in front of her. "Some man can come and snatch you up."

She smiled at him and shook her head, "Smooth talker."

"I'll protect you from all the crazies here." Bill pushed Charlie to the side. "Which, looks like, is only you, little brother."

"Funny. You're crazy too. Who do you think I caught the disease from?"

She giggled, watching Bill sit next to Charlie, but then her smile disappeared and she found it increasingly difficult to look at them.

She reached her hands out to the both of them and the two held her hands.

"You will each receive a gift from me."

"We don't -"

George paused at the bottom of the hill, hand digging into his pocket.

"You won't know right away what it is, but you'll figure it out."

"What are -"

The lone twin shook his head and took a step forward, closer to the cottage.

"When you arrive you will find a company of dwarrows, a halfling, and a wizard named Gandalf."

"Uh, that doesn't -"

A laugh drifted back up to them and then George turned back around, jogging back up the hill.

"To come back, you must complete two quests. Both filled with tragedy and death, blood and fire. One is to reclaim a home and the second is to protect it and all the others from one who is far worse than anyone has ever seen," she spoke quicker, eyes widening on the figure drawing closer to them.

Both tried to draw away, but she kept her grasp firm even though her tears fell.

"What -"

George's eyes narrowed on them as the wind started picking up, swirling around the three.

"At the end, you will decide who, if either, will come back here and who will stay. Until that decision you will not age so that you may complete these quests. If you both decide to stay, you will have one wish that I can grant you."

She gazed at George, shaking her head, as light slowly began to seep from her hands and around the trio. A cry left the man.

"Wait, this isn't -"

She brought their resisting hands closer to her face, inches from her lips, her breath ghosting over their fingers.

"When you reach Gandalf and his company, tell him you were sent by Núri." She brushed her lips over their fingers. "I will see you again. Good luck."

George reached the top of the hill and he lunged forward, hands outreached; his brothers never seeing him, seeming to not even hear him call out.

A beam of light shot from their joined hands and enveloped them.

The light faded.

The sun continued it's lonely trek down the sky, the occupants on top of the hill no where to be seen.

* * *

IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Hi everyone! if you haven't seen my profile, then let me tell you what I'm doing. This is the first of 5 stories I'm posting today. I've been stuck on writing because I've been juggling between all the stories in my head. I'm going to focus on the story that gets the most views/follows/favorites/reviews ect ect. in the next week. I'll be doing a tally on 2-25-18.

Unbetaed


	2. Chapter 1

Blurs of white, blue, and grey swirled around the two brothers.

They fell.

And fell.

The two tried to keep a hold of each other, the fabric of their clothes slippery to the touch. Their fingers slipped, a heavy weight pulling the stockier of the two to the side. The eldest almost lost grip of the younger, but he wrapped his arms around his brother and refused to let go.

Whatever held onto Charlie let go, making it easier for Bill to keep a grip on him.

And the two continued to fall.

Time lost meaning to the brothers.

The space around them condensed and contracted.

Colors softened, brightened.

Eyes ached when the the area in front of them began warping into a vortex. Light became brighter, their tongues lay hot and dry in their mouths and fresh air hit their senses.

They landed.

Bill squashed between the ground and Charlie.

His face pressed harshly against the dirt so all he could breathe in was dust and see only the darkness. He yelled, but the sound was muffled, and he turned his head so he could spit out the brown stuff and coughed the rest out of his throat. He blinked rapidly a few times to get the dirt out of his eyes. "Oi, Charlie, get your fat arse off me."

The weight of his brother did not diminish or move.

"We landed, if you couldn't tell."

Charlie stayed perfectly still. Blinking to get the rest of the grit out of his eyes, he focused on their surroundings.

He froze.

A large group of people - with a large variance in stature and clothing - held weapons ready and aimed at them.

Bows and arrows.

Axes.

Knives.

Swords.

One of the shorter ones - their heads didn't even reach the taller ones shoulders - held a sword and snapped something that neither brother recognized. Bill frantically looked from one person to the next, but he could only see so far with his brother on top of him and being unable to see very far in general. His fingers slowly inched their way towards his pocket and his wand.

"Hold still," Charlie hissed between his teeth. The younger held his hands up, causing Bill to grunt at the added weight on him. Charlie spoke up, "Look, there's a mixup. We don't know where we ended up, or what happened, or why we ended up on top of each other, or -"

"Charlie!" Bill twitched, trying to get in a good breath of air.

"What? You're not helping matters by moving around and -"

Another string of words left one of the taller folk in the nicer, navy robes he wore - though he sounded more curious, cautious, than anything.

The two brothers stared at him, but Bill grunted out, "Neither is your blabbering."

A barked word - similar to the sound of an order - had the two flinching. One of the shorter ones huffed and said something back in the harsh, guttural language, his fingers flexing around his bow.

"Without our weapons, we're dead."

"If we reach for them, we're dead."

Bill let his head thunk on the ground, quick to press his cheek against the rubble. His eyes moved from the enemies he could see. The hairs on the back of his neck tickled, alerting him to the presence of others in the areas he couldn't see. "Could you at least get off me?"

"I think in this case, less movement is better."

The short people - and all of them, except the one with the bow, held beards of varying lengths and colors - began talking amongst themselves, non to quietly. One of them, the one with a bald head with tattoos, yelled at the brothers.

"I could get a shield up without my wand."

"And then it would shatter. Both of us are pants with wandless magic. Only Perce and George - and Gin on a good day - are any good at it."

A cough brought their attention to an elderly man in patched grey robes and blue eye. His weathered hands gripped his staff, belaying his seemingly relaxed position. He murmured something, but neither could understand.

Charlie shook his head.

The others turned and yelled at the old man.

The man's head tilted, seemingly ignoring the shouting, and pursed his lips. He stood up straight and tapped his staff lightly on the ground, a bright light engulfing them all.

"Lets try again, shall we? My name is Gandalf the Grey."

"Charlie Weasley."

A sharp elbow dug into his back. Bill grunted, "Bill Weasley."

"Brothers, perchance?" This time it was the tall man in the navy robes that spoke.

Bills mouth parted, but one of the shorter men interrupted, "Shouldn't the question be what are two men doing falling outta the sky?" The redhead - a much deeper shade than the Weasley's - stepped forward.

"We aren't sure why we're here. We just know the cryptic message we got from Fleur before we were sent here. Do you mind if we stand?"

"Not at all. We will, of course, keep our weapons out."

Bill immediately started moving, causing Charlie to scramble to his feet or else he would have fallen face first. On his feet, Bill rolled his shoulders and quickly maneuvered to stand at Charlie's back so all of the enemy could be seen.

They were surrounded.

A lot of folk - fair and wearing robes... robe pants? - either held bows or swords at the ready, their stances loose and creating a loose circle around them. The short men - dwarfs? - held a large array of weapons between them, and most of them were glaring at them.

The tension eased from his shoulders the slightest bit, but his face slackened in a forced calm and he knocked the back of his head against his brother's lightly. His lips hardly moved as he asked, "Any idea where we are?"

Charlie answered by speaking aloud, "Núri sent us."

* * *

He could feel Bill's back straighten against his, but Charlie clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He had the attention of Gandalf, the one who made it possible to be understood, and that was the nae of the person they were supposed to find. "Look, we don't know why we're here, or even where we are. We would appreciate it if you'd tell us exactly where we are so we can go home."

"You're in Rivendell, Master Weasley. However, if Núri sent you, getting home may not be as easy as you like."

The dwarfs - had to be, though they weren't like any kind of dwarfs he ad seen before in their armor - shuffled around murmuring to each other.

"Just tell us how far we are to England and we'll take it from there."

"Ah, I'm afraid I don't recognize this England you are referring to."

Bill's voice whispered, "I got a hold of my-"

"No whispering there. Lets hear whatcha gotta say." A dwarf with fine silver hair spoke up, keeping in front of a smaller one with barely any beard on his face.

Bill obeyed. "Apparate. You, me?"

The dwarfs looked confused, only to grow angry for not understanding. The others - not quite humans - had lowered their weapons and the one in the fine garments and Gandalf looked more intrigued than anything.

"Me. You shield."

"Shield, for what? The blonde dwarf asked, widening his stance and twirling a knife in his left hand, his dominant one, most likely.

"Go."

Charlie dug a hand in his pocket with his eyes closed and focused on thoughts of the burrow once his wand lay in his palm. The rolling hills, the gnomes that Molly constantly yelled about in her garden, the warm oven in the kitchen that didn't have enough room for everyone to be standing, the living room that held knitted blankets on the couches on the days it grew cold even with a fire roaring, the loose floorboard three steps away from the stairs that needed to be replaced. He narrowed his thoughts. The back entrance that never got used unless apparating or disapparating. The worn rug that read, Welcome Home, in Molly's cursive handwriting.

Turning on the spot, Charlie let himself be squeezed out of existence. He couldn't breathe. A moment later, the familiar act of apparating changed.

His body stretched. His arms pulled in two different directions, his legs seemed to be melted to whatever place they decided to be, his head moved up, up, _up_.

He lost focus and the image of home faded, going black at the edges and all he felt was searing pain.

* * *

Everything happened in a second. One moment Charlie disapparated, the next his brother lay on the ground. Bleeding. Right at Bill's feet.

Screaming.

With his left arm unattached to his body.

The severed arm lay several meters away.

Ignoring the shouts, the curses, the whinnies of terror from the horses, the utter confusion, Bill focused on his brother.

He could handle this. Others lost limbs in the tombs they entered and all of them knew how to reattach the pieces. Not the best, not without leaving scars, but enough to staunch the blood and heal.

He could feel someone touching his shoulder and Bill snarled, dropping to his knees and scrambling closer to Charlie.

Blood. Too much blood.

Drawing his wand, he flicked it and said, voice wavering, " _Accio_ Charlie's left arm."

It obeyed and squelched into his palm, blood splattering everywhere. He began murmuring in Latin.

Clean the wound, clean the limb, can't have infection.

Connect the tendons, the veins, all the little pieces so the arm can be used again. If he attached it correctly. In time.

Regrow skin, attach it completely.

He couldn't think of the people who lost the mobility in their limbs after an accident.

He lost the meaning of time, and he had to fight the haze of weariness. He had to stay awake.

Had to finish.

Charlie.

Charlie…

He didn't know if he finished.

* * *

Flickering flames crawled and climbed up the rock face. Shadows clung to crevices and random cracks. Bugs sped up the stone steps, running back to the lairs.

Five figures clocked in tans, greens and browns made their way silently down the steps. Rubble slipped off the side of the stones and fell down into the abyss below. Nothing other than the sound of rock on rock spoke of their passage. Their soft, padded boots landed soundlessly on the path.

Two stopped before a barred room and the others continued on their way, movements fluid. The duo nodded to the other pair who left their positions by the cell and made their up and out of the caverns.

 _"He still sleeps."_

 _"He has not awoken since that first day? What do the other guards say?"_

Steady, cool, wet drops landed on pale cheeks. Soft puffs of air escaped dry, cracked lips. Blood - dried, dark and cracking - caked the side of a bruised face.

 _"He slumbers no matter who watches."_

 _"How long will we keep him here?"_

 _"If he does not wake, only until his body perishes from lack of nourishment. If he wake... That will depend on the answers this one will say."_

Vivid red hair lay tangled with dirt and grime. Freckles adorned the high cheekbones and splattered across his neck.

 _"Mmm."_

 _"Come, Liefien, let us focus on lighter topics for now rather than the oddities of wizards. How fares your little one?"_

Air hung thick and heavy in the room, stale due to being so far beneath the surface and trees. Pale lips trembled, dragging more air into their lungs. Fingers stretched, legs twitched and the head lolled.

 _"Himandiel would be displeased to hear himself called thusly."_ A soft, lilting chuckle echoed around the room before Liefien continued, her voice softening. _"He is well. His begetting day passed and he celebrated these last few days. Though he will be back to his duty soon, this newcomer has caught his interest."_

 _"Who has not been caught by this mystery?"_

Liefien pushed back her hood, long, dark brown hair fell around her sharp featured face. Blue - the dark blue found on the edge of the night sky - eyes drifted towards the prone body in the cell. _"The timing is -"_ Thin eyebrows shot up and she darted to the cell door, crouching inches from the bars, but kept her fingers clear.

Avid eyes locked onto the moving form, watching as the eyelids flickered open. Hazel eyes, hazy from misuse, drifted around the room and unable to lock onto any one thing in particular.

 _"Aeron, he wakens. Inform our lord. Quick, quick."_

The other left before she finished speaking, leaving Liefien alone with the stranger.

 _"Who are you to have appeared on my son's hundredth begetting day?"_ The words uttered softly so no one else could hear her speak. Her lips quirked downwards as she stared at the stranger. _"You are an omen. Good or bad has yet to be clear."_

She stayed there, unwavering, as the man groaned and sat up. He pushed himself up on his feet, weaving to and fro.

When his attention landed on her and the bars, his lips parted in a snarl. Liefien kept silent as the man spoke - the tongue of which she had no understanding - and kept her vigil, wondering at the nonsense that spewed from the man.

* * *

IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Hi everyone! if you haven't seen my profile, then let me tell you what I'm doing. This is the first of 5 stories I'm posting today. I've been stuck on writing because I've been juggling between all the stories in my head. I'm going to focus on the story that gets the most views/follows/favorites/reviews ect ect. in the next week. I'll be doing a tally on 2-25-18.

Unbetaed


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